


This Is CNN

by Cerdic519



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2016 US Presidential Election, 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Medieval, American Revolution, Anglo-Saxon, Arthurian, Battle of Bosworth Field, French Maid Outfit-Wearing Castiel (Supernatural), Gay Sex, Journalism, London, M/M, Mistakes, Panties, Vikings, Wigs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-10-31 14:00:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17850854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: Five times journalist Castiel got it very slightly wrong and one time he got it maybe a little more than slightly wrong.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MelodyofWings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodyofWings/gifts), [lyster99](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyster99/gifts).



> My 600th fic!

**A.D. 500**

Castiel skulked into their hut hoping desperately that Dean was out somewhere for once. No such luck; the blond was sat waiting for him, the smirk as wide and annoying as ever and a certain sheet of paper in front of him.

“Well lookie here!” Dean grinned. “It's Sir Castiel The Not Always Quite Accurate, chief journalist of the _'Camelot News Network'_. And proclaimer of today's banner headline about the great King Arthur suffering a horrible defeat at the Battle of Badon. Oh wait – he won. Oopsie!”

Castiel thought a bad word, even for these times.

“My sources were misinformed”, he said loftily.

“Yeah yeah, tell it to the hand”, Dean grinned. “You're batting tonight, baby.”

Castiel had a quite uncharitable thought about his monarch as he started to get undressed. Why couldn't the sword-puller lose for once, or at least employ better messengers?

CNN***CNN***CNN***CNN***CNN


	2. Chapter 2

**A.D. 878**

Castiel poked his head around the door. Good, his lover wasn't there and... fuck, the newspaper was.

“Your early edition seems slightly incorrect”, came a horribly familiar voice from behind him as a long lithe body began to rub against his own. “Seems King Alfred wasn't totally and utterly walloped by the Vikings at Edington after all. The _'Chippenham Nightly News'_ got it wrong, wrong, wrong!”

A hand slipped inside his trousers and Castiel felt himself being propelled into the room. Dammit, why were his sources so damn unreliable these da.... aaaiieeee cold hands!!!!!

CNN***CNN***CNN***CNN***CNN


	3. Chapter 3

**A.D. 1141**

There was no sign of Dean in his smithy and Castiel uttered a sigh of relief. He could drop the ill-fated copy of _'Capital News Now'_ on the table and face the smirking behemoth later. Seriously, how could he have been expected to know that King Henry's dratted daughter would decide that with the crown not yet on her head, it was the perfect time to annoy the shit out of all London to the point where the plebs had risen and driven her out – fifteen minutes after he had put out all one hundred copies of his paper on England's first queen regnant!

Then his stomach dropped. On the chair there was a note with his name on it. Trembling he picked it up and read it.

_'Mr. Journalist,_

_No Queen Matilda after all? Tut tut. Guess who's wearing the panties when he gets the Big 'D' tonight?_

_You Know Who'_

Castiel may have been a Norman but the oath he uttered was most definitely Anglo-Saxon.

CNN***CNN***CNN***CNN***CNN


	4. Chapter 4

**A.D. 1485**

The good thing about this new printing-press, Castiel had decided, was that it enabled the news to be got out much more quickly to many more people. The bad news, less fortuitously, was that people expected news faster and so the pressure was on to get stories written. Which may on occasion have led to the odd infinitesimally small, extremely minor slip-up.

Beside him in the bed some hunky blond bastard who wasn't doing any laying again any time soon sniggered. Castiel really wished that they could be married so he could divorce the smirking ha'p'orth. Who could have foreseen that that Welsh nobody Henry Tudor could have defeated King Richard of York? Castiel had been fully justified in proclaiming another royal victory in his opinion.

“Thinking of your next groundbreaking story for the _'Crown National Notes'?_ Dean grinned. “Give it time – I've got to come up with something even better for your next mis-step!”

Castiel reminded himself that there was still capital punishment for the crime of murder. _If_ he was found out.....

CNN***CNN***CNN***CNN***CNN


	5. Chapter 5

**A.D. 1781**

Castiel felt that he had been quite justified in writing about the great British victory over the rebel settlers at Yorktown. The place was some three thousand miles away on the other side of the world; people could surely not expect even the illustrious _'City & National Newscaster'_ to get it right every time?

“Of course the French would _never_ be able to blockade our troops!” muttered someone who was gonna get pushed out of bed if he didn't stop smirking and waving a feather duster in the air. It looked like Castiel would be cleaning the house in the French maid's outfit again. 

Oh well, at least it was comfortable.

CNN***CNN***CNN***CNN***CNN


	6. Chapter 6

**A.D. 2016**

This was just _unfair!_

Castiel had been absolutely sure what would happen and had posted his congratulations to America's first ever woman president the moment that polls had closed in the eastern states. And then one by one, state after state had betrayed him until, incredibly, one of the most talented candidates ever to stand for the highest office in the land had been defeated by a former reality game-show host! Damn deplorables!

Worst of all he had texted Dean about it beforehand to do something that an uncharitable person might just possibly have defined as gloating. Still the guy would probably just want some more kinky sex. He was a simple soul beneath the bluster.

Yes.

CNN***CNN***CNN***CNN***CNN

Castiel folded his arms and scowled. The jerk rolling about with laughter in the bed next to him was never getting laid ever again!

“Your face!” Dean chortled. “When I got out that hair-piece and said I wanted to wear it while fucking you.....”

He rolled clean out of the bed with laughter. Castiel fervently hoped he'd injured himself, the snarky bastard!

CNN***CNN***CNN***CNN***CNN


End file.
